


Formation

by melodramaqueen



Series: Jack/Ianto Drabbles [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Pre-Canon, Pre-Episode: s01e04 Cyberwoman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5189942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodramaqueen/pseuds/melodramaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto's thoughts - from just before his arrival at Torchwood Three to the beginning of Cyberwoman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Formation

Ianto joined Torchwood with few illusions – either about the institution or himself. He had seen exactly what the institute was capable of _(terrified and in pain, wondering how field agents did this every day, knowing that Canary Wharf was obviously under attack but there was no way Torchwood One was down, it was Torchwood with its glittering promises, and Lisa, oh god Lisa, was Lisa stuck there somewhere, he had to find her, find Lisa, just walking through rubble and destruction for what felt like eternity, reality sinking in in an unreal haze, Torchwood One was over, Torchwood One was gone, seeing Lisa there, save Lisa, there would be no meaning left if he didn’t save her)_ and what he himself was capable of ( _somehow making it to Cardiff with Lisa, looking for places to help her recover, discovering that he would need Torchwood Three’s database and equipment to fix her, hating that he had to return to that damned institute, but wanting to go back, loathing the careless new Captain for treating him like dirt that Torchwood One had left all over his doorstep, finding ways to impress him, accidentally winding up_ feeling _for a moment, feeling that didn’t involve Lisa in anyway, wanting to do something for once that wasn’t about helping her, overwhelming guilt_ ).

As he moved through the Hub on his first day, he noted that none of his new team members gave him a second look. Although the arrival of a new co-worker should have attracted some attention, it didn’t. There had been brief, distracted introductions and that was that. He made them all coffee and wandered through his duties on auto-pilot. His suits differentiated him from the rest, his meek demeanour let him fade into the background and his quiet fulfilment of all his duties before anyone could even notice they needed doing and detect his presence by his absence made sure he blended in in no time.

Ianto Jones, as much part of the background of life at Torchwood One as the coffee machine by the end of his very first day.

By the end of the week, Suzie’s eyes slid right over him. Toshiko gave him a distracted smile sometimes when he handed her coffee. Owen only deigned to notice his existence on the very rare occasions he needed a file from the archives Ianto hadn’t already provided.

But then there was Captain Jack Harkness. No matter how listless and dull Ianto tried to make himself in front of the man, he would not give up. He asked Ianto if he could please make him a coffee with a charming smile, as though Ianto hadn’t already made the damn thing as soon as he got in. He asked him if he wanted firearms training and obviously wondered when Ianto refused. He drew Ianto into team conversations, lunches, even drinks after work one time and had furrows in his brow when Ianto spent the majority of his time smoothly making himself part of the scenery instead of participating. It made Ianto grit his teeth (another emotion that had nothing to do with Lisa).

And then there was the flirting. For reasons best known to himself, Jack – Harkness, Captain Harkness – chose to single him out. Oh, it wasn’t as though he didn’t flirt with everything else that moved (or stood still long enough, really). But it felt like morewith him – not just more frequent use of eye-roll worthy innuendoes but also a speculative gleam in his eyes that was absent with the others.

The worst part was: Ianto responded. Even on bloody auto-pilot, those 51st century pheromones (Occam’s Razor) seduced a reply out of him. It was the one thing he did that attracted some degree of attention to him although luckily his co-workers mostly dismissed it as Jack’s behaviour more than his. He was horrified with himself a second later half the time and wracked with guilt the other half but still he couldn’t stop opening his mouth and replying.

Between his irritation and horror and guilt, it was inevitable that the numbness that had been his protective shielding after Canary Wharf would melt away sooner rather than later. He watched it disappear bit by bit, like a trainwreck that was completely out of his control.

It still caught him by surprise though, when three weeks in he caught himself feeling… resentful. Tosh and Owen, Jack and Suzie went to a bar after work and none of them thought to ask him along. It fit in perfectly with his plan, gave him time to perfect what would shortly be Lisa’s home in the basement. But still, being ignored made him feel something. It was like a coil untwisting itself in the pit of his stomach and he hated it. It was a proper emotion, and it had been so long since he had really felt one of those that he couldn’t help but spend the next day in a mood so foul even Suzie noticed.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” asked Owen, more curious than snarky for once. Owen got decaf for the rest of the day.

So of course, the day had to end in Jack’s – Harkness’ – office. Ianto already knew the universe disliked him, on a deep and personal level usually reserved for cockroaches and earwigs. The first day of _feeling_ since Canary Wharf would end with him shagging Jack in his office, because really the second Jack opened his mouth Ianto knew Lisa wouldn’t last the night if they started talking then.

His brain just felt too raw, his whole being one raw exposed nerve. It would be so much easier to not talk, he thought as he pressed his lips against Jack’s.

It wasn’t.

-

And so life went on at Torchwood Three. There were minor disturbances – a particularly vicious bunch of Gthulu, Lisa’s eyes getting duller and duller day by day till he could barely recognise them at all, an inter-galactic busload of Andalusian tourists whose arrival took three-quarters of their Retcon stock to disguise, Gwen Cooper’s wide-eyed arrival at the Hub – but Ianto continued to work through them. He was still determinedly clinging on to the tattered remains of the detachment that had carried him this far but they were fast getting swept away.

Suzie’s death and Gwen’s dramatic entry into the group had shaken all of them just a bit more than they would like to admit. Jack overcompensated by focussing on the new girl as though determined to make up for all the attention he didn’t give Suzie, Tosh thanked him more often for her coffee and even Owen toned the snark back down a bit (although that last may just have been him being too busy trying to get laid now that he could no longer sneak alien pheromone sprays out quite so easy).

Ianto quietly began to make travel arrangements for Dr Tanazaki the day after Gwen’s arrival. She was the perfect distraction, a novelty – new and loud and enthusiastic. And he ignored the little twinges that crept up on him as he continued to play the stable General Support.

Because, slowly but surely, the world was still spinning and his detachment was fading even as Lisa continued to draw in laboured breaths just a few levels below. He had to bite his tongue more than once to keep from voicing the comments that popped into his head as the team conversed around him, he had to quash the disgusting voice that popped up in the back of his mind as he lay next to a sleeping Jack at night that asked him what he even wanted, he had to push back the feeling of being the last kid left on the playground when the others ignored his presence, he had to push back bitterness when even the newest team member treated him as part of the background, he had to ignore the strange feeling that popped up when Jack teased him about not eating enough, he couldn’t let himself feel anything like pleasure when the Archives finally started to make sense, he wished he didn’t feel curious when a particularly interesting piece of alien tech fell through the Rift from the legendary 51st century Library planet and he definitely did not want to feel a growing sense of estrangement from his Lisa.

So in the days following Gwen’s arrival, he began to spend more and more time downstairs. Ianto tried desperately to reconnect with Lisa, holding her hand and reading out loud from her favourite books even as Dr Tanazaki sent him the final details for his arrival. He knew his preoccupation bemused Jack but luckily between the new girl and the sudden uptick in Rift activity he was too busy himself to be able to press Ianto for details.

Ianto hated him a little bit for that.

And then Tanazaki was calling him from the airport. The same unreal haze that had surrounded him in the aftermath of Canary Wharf descended and he made all the arrangements with neat precision. He drew so far back on himself, became so thoroughly invisible, they just tossed him a sweaty old basketball and left. Considering that being forgettable had been his aim all along and that he had turned down their offers far too many times already until even Jack had given up on his innuendo-filled requests for him to ‘come’ along, it really shouldn’t have left him feeling as unaccountably angry as it did.

The damn haze didn’t seem to be working this time around. Somewhere in the back of his mind Ianto grew strangely nervous and for once, it showed. He forgot to keep the coffee ready, he slipped up just a little in conversation and his heart wouldn’t stop trying to pound its way out of his bloody chest.

But seeing Lisa so close to being _Lisa_ again – it unlocked something inside him, something dangerously close to hope. In that moment, all the guilt and turmoil and love and stubbornness that had carried him this far merged together to give rise to a feeling that anything could happen.

    


End file.
